None of us can seem to put this situation into words. Having pored over this blog for the past couple of days, I sense you all have as good of an understanding as you can as to what has just happened to us. I wish we had had any sort of warning, but how can you? Especially since, so they say, anyone told about the curse will be in disbelief.
I was running in control mode all day Sunday. Realizing my body had changed, I suppose, sent me into a headspace of solving problems and making sure everything was OK with my friends. I knew I was a female now, but I didn't let that register with me until it was okay to indulge a little personal panic. I had to keep calm for everyone else. The first thing I did was check on Zane. He was understandably freaks. He had been changed, like me, into a girl. At first I thought all of us had been changed into opposite-gendered bodies, but when I visited Shaun and Lisa, I found that was not the case. And so the mystery of the Trading Post Inn began to unravel. Before long it was something we could wrap our heads around.
That doesn't mean I like it, but I can't deal with that right now. Before I can worry about myself, I need assurance that everyone is healthy and safe and... I don't know, adjusting, if need be.
After I confirmed what had happened with Shaun and Lisa, we went about figuring out the missing pieces of our "new lives." Lisa and I have wound up in the bodies of a pair of sisters, albeit ones separated by ten years. Lisa is a girl named Eve, who is going into her first year at college. "Doug" you already know about, and Zane is his "sister," a woman named Clara.
I've been keeping an eye on him. For the first day he didn't move much, probably as much due to hangover as to shock and not wanting to "deal with it." Finally, when he drifted back asleep I sneaked back to my own room.
I was reluctant to go rooting through this woman's luggage, but I knew nothing I had was going to fit me. Her figure is very... womanly and I was embarrassed to stay in my own clothes as long as I did because it must have looked pathetic. Even so, I had a hard time imagining myself picking out an outfit.
Her name is Charlotte Christopoulos, "Ceecee," a junior modelling agent. Clearly not a model herself. When I finally got a look at myself naked, I was not thrilled.
I don't want to use the word "fat." I'm a sensitive guy and I know that women come in all shapes. "Fat" implies there's a giant gut bulging out, just rolls everywhere. "Curvy" is the correct term... she's got a bit of a belly curving over the waistband of the underpants, and a very wide set of hips... a big bum to sit on... but that's what they say "real women" are supposed to look like, isn't it? It comes with a very large set of boobs hanging down, blocking my view of my feet. When I found a bra to wear, the cups were 34-F's. And I think it may be too small. I wedged my tits in and they really felt like they were on display... I really understand why they call it a "rack."
I tried to squeeze myself into a set of jean-shorts, but that wasn't comfortable... they rode up in the front which is not only tight, but unnatural feeling for me as I'm used to that area featuring very different geography, of course.
With a sigh, I switched out for a skirt and tanktop, walking and sitting awkwardly the rest of the day. Zane took a look at me and asked how I could be wearing these clothes, and I said there wasn't much option and he was going to have to deal with it sooner than later. Weakly, he looked up at me and asked, his voice taking a girlish tone, "Is it gonna be okay?"
I nodded, "Yeah, I think so," not sure whether I believed it.